


Ambulance

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 15:17:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13616103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis rescues a wayward photographer. Again.





	Ambulance

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Prompto is a wildlife photographer with a habit of getting up close and personal with his subjects. Noctis the poor hunter who has to warp in and aave the day with a Phoenix Day whenever Prompto gets his dumb ass killed (again)” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?thread=7587118#cmt7587118).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Of all the many monsters Noctis hunts, Spiracorns aren’t the worst, but neither are they the easiest—they’re quick and nimble, somehow barely leaving an imprint on the ground despite their heavy hooves. They’re quiet until provoked, and they can come out of nowhere to run stray farmers down. They’re especially difficult to track at night—their pitch-black hides blending seamlessly into the darkness—but Noctis is sure he’s getting close, and after a full day of tracking, he’s not about to give up now.

He’s followed their trail a good ways out of town, over the hard plains and through the rocky hills. Though the flashlight clipped to his clothes doesn’t illuminate nearly enough around him, he knows there’s a short wall of cliff on his left as he weaves through the valley. He can almost _smell_ them on the wind. Noctis creeps lower into position, wary and ready. He doesn’t _quite_ summon his blade yet, but he suspects he’ll need to soon. 

Then he hears it—the sharp, piercing cry of a wild stag, quickly followed by the wails of the others. It gives their position away, but it also tells him that they’re not alone—that’s the call of a beast in their own hunt, cornering prey. Noctis tenses, just in case it’s bigger game that he doesn’t want to take on at the same time—at this time of night, the daemons are out. But the scream that follows is horribly _human_.

Noctis knows that voice. He warps forward without thinking, catching his sword and repeating the process, another, then another, until he’s one step from stasis and right in the thick of things. The Spiracorns are suddenly all around him, a herd ten beasts thick, and one fallen, pale body lying in their midst. Noctis recognizes the wildlife photographer easily, and not just from the fancy camera hanging from his neck, cushioned on his barely-breathing chest. His shock of yellow hair sticks out like a sore thumb in Noctis’ territory. The lead stag paws the ground, and Noctis has one second to decide: his prey or _Prompto_.

It’s no decision. But he’s bitter as he dives for Prompto’s limp form, scooping it protectively up into his arms. He uses the last of his strength to warp them over the lip of the cliff, above the Spiracorn’s reach. They screech up from below, blood curdling in their want of human flesh. They won’t get it tonight.

Noctis only has a few supplies left. He rarely needs them himself, but Prompto’s whittled down his stock. He brushes the last phoenix down carefully over Prompto’s heart, and Prompto’s breath splutters back to life; he coughs and arches up, squirming in Noctis’ grasp. Noctis cradles him close as the _death_ seeps out of him, the warmth of _magic_ lining his skin. Maybe the Spiracorns can sense it; he can hear their furious hooves retreating into the night.

Perhaps he could still catch them. He could drop Prompto down onto the rocks and leave him there, summon the strength for one last warp and take his chances with the herd. But when he looks at Prompto’s pained face, he knows he can’t do that. It takes a few seconds for Prompto’s blue eyes to flutter open. Then he sees Noctis and flushes deep across his freckles, expression cutely awed, then sheepish.

He mutters, “Hey.”

Noctis answers, “Hey.”

“Shit.” Prompto tries to sit up, rising out of Noctis’ arms, only to collapse a second later and clutch at Noctis’ shoulder, pulling him down to ask desperately, “Wait, my camera—”

“Around your neck.” Noctis plucks at the strap, and Prompto turns an even deeper pink. 

The final howl sounds in the distance, fading out of earshot and drawing Noctis’ gaze. He can’t help his scowl. He was so _close_ , and if this idiot civilian didn’t keep—

A flash of light engulfs him, and he turns a glare to Prompto, who guiltily lowers his camera and mumbles, “Sorry, couldn’t resist. You’re pretty cute when you’re angry.”

Noctis is probably blushing too, but he covers it by muttering, “Dumbass,” and pushing Prompto out of his lap. He brushes his pants off as he gets to his feet. There’s no point pursuing the hunt now. He might as well head back to town and catch a few hours rest. He thinks of jumping down and wandering off himself, but at the last minute, he finds himself begrudgingly asking, “You wanna come have some cup noodles or something?” He still needs dinner. He can’t quite look at Prompto, but he’s aware of Prompto in his peripherals, sitting cross-legged on the cliff and examining the camera. But Prompto’s head snaps up at his offer.

A bright, dazzling smile twists itself across Prompto’s sweet face. He chirps, “Hell yeah!” He’s unsteady when he pushes up, but not quite enough for Noctis to help him.

Noctis takes the first step towards the easier path down—the one that won’t require warping—and as Prompto falls into line, Noctis notes, “You’re paying, to make up for the phoenix down.”

Prompto groans but follows.


End file.
